


Belling the Cat

by A_Butter_Churner



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: COVID-19, Courfeyrac being Courfeyrac, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Lack of Toilet Paper, Light Angst, M/M, Poor Combeferre, Quarantine times, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Why Did I Write This?, courferre, courferre gets a pet, he's just so stressed, it's a cat, like once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24254011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Butter_Churner/pseuds/A_Butter_Churner
Summary: When Combeferre finally steps back into his apartment, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to expect. Maybe flowers, or something special for dinner (Courf makes the best spaghetti).But he knows this much:He should never, in his wildest dreams, expect Courf to be lying on the couch with a scruffy, tiny, tabby kitten on his lap.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	Belling the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! We back with courferre. 
> 
> Chapter Five of The Safest Place for Me, Darling, is in Your Arms should be out sometime this week *crosses fingers*
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy this piece of shit!
> 
> <3 Jas
> 
> P.S. Here's the link to The Safest Place for Me, Darling, is in Your Arms
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115465

Combeferre is itching to get home. Well, he’s itching in general because Jehan had insisted on making homemade masks for all of them, but Enjolras had refused unless the fabric was organic or something and Combeferre is now pretty sure that whatever fabric Jehan used, he’s allergic to it and there’s a redness now above his upper lip.

But in more specific terms, he just really wants to go home.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac had started dating only a few weeks before quarantine started, and they didn’t want to lose what they’d just begun to have, so once the mandate for the Stay-At-Home order had been passed, he’d asked rather bashfully if Courf wanted to stay with him in his apartment. His boyfriend (God, he loved that word) had readily agreed.

At first, everything was perfect. There is something to be said for waking up late in the morning and having a small, freckled boy curled up against you, holding you as if you were his lifeline. The two of them loved spending almost every minute of every day with each other, whether they were talking, playfully teasing, or just cuddling the life out of each other. It was exhilarating. Courfeyrac’s smiles and goofy laughter filled Combeferre with so much warmth and made his heart swell with bliss. He loved being able to sift his fingers into the smaller boy’s hair and bury his nose in his dark chestnut curls like he’d longed to for years. He loved being able to pull Courfeyrac so close to him that they were breathing each other more than they were breathing oxygen in the dead of night.

It was heaven on earth.

Until it wasn’t.

It had nothing to do with Courfeyrac himself. In fact, Combeferre thinks he keeps falling in love with the freckled boy over and over again.

The problem lay in the fact that living with another person was far different than living by yourself. Combeferre had begun to realize, thanks to Courf, that a lot of his habits weren’t sustainable. Like when Courfeyrac pointed out Ferre’s unhealthy tendency to forbid himself from sleeping if he didn’t finish a project.

“Ferre?” Courf had groaned, groggily stumbling into the room in his pajamas.

“Hey,” Combeferre had said, not looking up from the computer screen.

Courfeyrac lifted the laptop off of his thighs, and replaced it with himself. The freckled boy had always been quite light, and seemed to fit perfectly on Combeferre’s lap. Courfeyrac wrapped his arms around the taller boy’s neck and murmured, “Come to bed.”

Combeferre had simply shook his head. “Can’t. Enjolras asked for these reports to be done a week ago, and I’m really behind.”

Courfeyrac had rolled his eyes and said, “It’s 3:00 am! You need to sleep.”

Combeferre muttered what he always muttered when some traitorous part of his brain told him the very same thing: “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

Courfeyrac had then reached for the laptop, pressed the little floppy disk ‘save’ button, and dragged Combeferre to their bed all the while pressing sweet kisses all over him, hugging him tight until they both fell asleep.

Or more recently, when Combeferre realized that he needed to shop a lot more often if he didn’t want him and Courf to starve.

So that’s where he is now. Walking back home, arms full of groceries, tired as hell. Who knew it would take half an hour just to find one roll of toilet paper? He sure didn’t.

_Next time,_ he thinks, _Courf is going and I’m going to take a nap._

As if on cue, his phone suddenly sounds.

**Courf** **❤** **: Heyyy ;)**

Combeferre pulled out his phone and smiled before typing out a reply.

Me: Hi.

**Courf** **❤** **: Whatcha doing?**

Me: I’m getting groceries bc u and ur lazy ass were sleeping like the devil

**Courf** **❤** **: Um, this look doesn’t just happen**

**Courf** **❤** **: (1 file attached)**

Me: K

**Courf** **❤** **: No reaction? Noted.**

**Courf** **❤** **: When’ll u be home?**

Me: In like, 10 min?

**Courf** **❤** **: M’kay. I have a surprise for you!**

Me: Aw…so sweet.

**Courf** **❤** **: I am, aren’t I? Love you!**

Me: Love you too.

When Combeferre finally steps back into his apartment, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to expect. Maybe flowers, or something special for dinner (Courf makes the best spaghetti).

But he knows this much:

He should never, in his wildest dreams, expect Courf to be lying on the couch with a scruffy, tiny, tabby kitten on his lap.

“What the hell, Courf?” Combeferre yelps, his voice leaping about three octaves higher.

At the sound of his voice, Courfeyrac jumps up, kitten in hand, and grins the widest grin Combeferre has ever seen.

“Hi!” his boyfriend runs up to him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Where the hell did you get a cat, Courf?” Combeferre inquires, leaning down to take a better look at the creature in Courf’s arms. The cat in question was a very small tabby with mange that should be expected of a dog. The cat was also heterochromatic: her left eye was a piercing ocean blue and her right eye was a warm copper brown.

“I know, right? Isn’t she the cutest?” Courf smiled into “her” fur.

“That did not answer my question. At all.” Combeferre deadpans. “Where’d you get her?”

Courfeyrac squeezes the kitten tighter, eliciting a strangled mewl from the creature’s mouth.

“Courf…”

“She was just hobbling on the street, Ferre! She was alone! Scared! Hungry! Give me other negative adjectives…depressed! Can cats get depressed? If cats can get depressed, then she was depressed. Civil duty, Ferre! Like Enjolras says. It was simply calling me! If I didn’t rescue her, what kind of a citizen would I be?” Courfeyrac swoons melodramatically, kitten still in hand.

Combeferre sighs, rubbing his eyes. He loves his boyfriend, he loves his boyfriend very much. But this? What?

Although, the kitten was way more adorable than should be legal. And she was making Courf so happy…

Nope! Combeferre can’t even provide for him and his boyfriend! How is he supposed to take care of a cat?

“Courf, we’ve got to let her go. We can’t afford to keep her.” Combeferre reaches a hand to Courfeyrac’s cheek in what he hopes is a tenderly fashion.

Courfeyrac’s face just falls. Combeferre can practically hear it hitting the floor with a resounding _thunk._ He presses a tiny kiss to the kitten’s forehead while the kitten herself cranes her neck, pawing back at Courf who looks up at Ferre, melancholy pooling in his hazel irises.

The look Courfeyrac is giving him twists a knife in Combeferre’s heart, what with that little bottom lip sticking out and quivering.

“I’m sorry, Courf,” he kneels down next to his boyfriend, rubbing his back.

Wait…

“Please don’t tell me you _named_ her…” Ferre starts.

Courfeyrac immediately lights up again, face breaking into a sparkling grin. “As a matter a fact, I did!”

The freckled boy picks up the scruffy little cat and hoists her into the air- Lion King style.

“Aaaaaaah, say bung yaaaaaaa…I don’t know the words…! And now, I present to you…Princess Buttercup!”

To say that there is now an uncomfortable silence in the Courferre apartment is an understatement. After a few _long_ minutes, Courfeyrac continues.

“I know that we’re all supposed to be like, ‘Down with the monarchy’! ‘Vive le Republique’ or whatever. But that’s okay! Princess Buttercup will be the exception. But we can’t tell Enjolras her real name, or he’ll get mad. _So,_ when we’re talking to Enjolras and he asks about her, she goes undercover. How do you feel about the codename _Robespierrina?”_

Combeferre just stands there while Courf is prattling on. Words that used to form linear, structured sentences in his head now dance around his brain in incoherent lines and squiggles, unable to form any thought that would remotely make sense.

“Ferre?” comes Courf’s little chirp once again.

When Combeferre is able to make sentences again he sighs and asks, “Did you at least order cat food?”

Courfeyrac’s face blooms bouquets of crimson roses as Combeferre groans and face-palms.

“W-well! She’s a princess, Ferre! She can’t have _normal_ cat food.” Courfeyrac stammers.

“That’s literally what we fight against, Courf. E would be so mad if he heard you say that.” Combeferre deadpans.

“Gasp! You disrespect Princess Buttercup…therefore you give me no choice.”

“C’mon Courf, can we let this go?”

“I’m so sorry, Ferre. But my hands are tied. We’re breaking up.”

“What?” Combeferre cries. “Over a cat?” He knows in the rational part of his brain (which conveniently decides not to show up now, thanks) that Courf loves him, that this is a joke. But it might be the stress or the realization that this could be temporary, that Courfeyrac could throw him away the second he realizes Combeferre isn’t worth loving, but Combeferre breaks down.

His chest heaves with heavy sobs, as he looks up at Courfeyrac through eyes blurred with tears. He can barely make out the confusion and shock and horror on Courf’s face.

Suddenly, he feels something prickly mauling at his sweater. He looks down to see Princess Buttercup mewing softly, nuzzling against his body. She looks up at him with her two different colored eyes and purrs, a tiny smile gracing her face. Without waiting for an invitation, she jumps into Combeferre’s arms and invites him to pet her. He obliges, each stroke against her orange fur calming him a little bit.

Then, he feels arms wrap around him from behind and a warm, lingering kiss against the back of his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Ferre.” Comes Courfeyrac’s guilt-ridden whimper. “I-I just t-thought that…because you’ve been really stressed…and she was right there…”

Combeferre reaches up to kiss his boyfriend’s lips, wiping the tears from his face and his own. “It’s okay, Courf. I…I just don’t want this to end. You’re my everything, you know that?”

“Oh!” Courfeyrac buries his face in the nape of Combeferre’s neck. “I love you so much, Ferre!”

Princess Buttercup mews in agreement, eliciting a chuckle from the two boys.

Courfeyrac clears his throat and says shakily, “You’ve been so busy, Ferre. I wanted us to have something, you know? Something we could call our own, to make this…permanent? But I can let her go if you want.”

Combeferre glances down at the tabby kitten on his lap who was now sleeping peacefully. “Nah. I think she’s a keeper.”

Courfeyrac jumps a good six feet into the air. “Yay! I can order cat food. And I’ll get the groceries next time.”

The smaller boy dashes away to find his phone all the way chanting: “Courferre has a cat! Courferre has a cat! Yay!!!”

Combeferre looks down once more at Princess Buttercup, then calls after Courf.

“By the way, Robespierrina is a great codename.”


End file.
